


The One Where You Die and Get Eaten

by MLMDarkFiction



Category: PURPLE (Game), Purple - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Necrophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Transman Reader - Freeform, gore porn, horror porn, male reader - Freeform, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 12:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16892910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MLMDarkFiction/pseuds/MLMDarkFiction
Summary: Randall Purpura falls in love, and he falls hard. It seems like everything is going to be alright, until his alter personality gets a bit too rough.





	The One Where You Die and Get Eaten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [masochistfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masochistfox/gifts).



  
Love at first sight is something Randall didn’t know he believed in, until it happened to him. It wasn’t like when he met Tom. When Randall met Tom, he knew the man was attractive, knew he was his type, but when he met ____, he felt fireworks go off in his heart. He doesn’t know if ____ felt it too, but there’s no way he didn’t. They were perfect. Every fiber of Randall’s being felt like it needed him.

It had been an accidental meeting. Randall was admiring the hallway now that the Apartment Manager had cleaned it up a bit. There was less trash than usual, and the holes in the door to apartment 4B had finally been, sloppily, patched up.

The stranger had entered the hallway, two boxes stacked on top of one another blocking his face, making him completely unaware of Randall’s presence in the hallway until he bumped into the dazed man.

Thankfully neither of them were hurt, it was a soft bump, not even strong enough to cause the boxes in the man's hands to fall, still though, he felt bad. Apologizing to Randall not once, not twice, but four times in total before Randall is finally able to convince him it’s alright.

Really he feels like he’s met an angel. The new neighbor is attractive, and from what Randall was able to catch when he’d bumped into him, he smelled nice too.

Their first meeting is short lived. New neighbor apologetically introducing himself as ____, while Randall, in a lovestruck daze found himself barely able to utter his own name, let alone say anything else coherent.

*

If it wasn’t for Mya basically forcing her way into his life, Randall’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have any friends. So when it comes to actually befriending the new neighbor, Randall is at an absolute loss about where to start.

He asks Mya for advice, and it’s...not super helpful. She recommends he be himself, and either knock on ____’s door and start conversation, or purposefully run into him in the hallway.

Both options seem too straightforward and challenging.

Next Randall asks Tom, who after some friendly teasing, suggests Tom invite the new neighbor over, and the three of them could drink some beer, and Randall use that time to get to know him.

But something about the idea of Tom being too close to ____ makes Randall feel...Uncomfortable.

*

Maybe Randall is right about fate. As the universe has it, ____, talks to Randall first.

Randall isn’t expecting to be woken up at midnight to the new neighbor he’s been smitten with knocking at his door, but he’s not against it by any means.

____ is looking worse for wear. Randall see’s it immediately, knows the signs like the back of his hand. He notices the dark circles under ____’s eyes, and the redness of his wrists hidden behind his elongated sleeves.

His own scars itch in recognition.

“I know this is weird...and you don’t know me, but you seem...Trustworthy.”

Randall’s heart skips a beat. ____ felt it too. They had a connection! This proved it!

“Do you wanna like...get some late night junk food with me?”

*

The pair get gas station burritos, and sit in the nearby park. It’s quiet at first, partially because Randall can do nothing but admire the man beside him.

But suddenly there’s a shift in the mood.

Randall doesn’t know who started it. It seems like one minute he was staring deeply at ____, listening to him talk about his succulent garden, and the next thing he knew he was kissing the other man.

His hearts beating out of his chest, and it’s like he can’t control himself, watching with bated breath as his body goes through the motions.

Kissing, then sucking and biting on skin, soon enough they’re both naked, and it’s not long before Randall watches himself pin ____ to the picnic table, and fuck him.

It’s beautiful, and it feels so, so good.

It feels so good Randall puts the confusion of the out of body experience behind him.

____ smiles up at Randall, spent, but looking so much more full of life than he had before. He waits for the shaky man on top to pull out, before beginning to put his clothes on.

“Randall, do you wanna stay the night at my place tonight?”

*

Apartment 4B is a small, modest apartment, just like all the others in the building.The whole place appears to be in the middle of unfinished repairs, and amongst the half broken walls, and ripping paint are all of ____’s things. Something about the apartment puts Randall on edge, a buzz of discomfort sitting in his lower stomach, but he ignores it .

After all everything is perfect.

He wonders, is this what it’s like to have a boyfriend?

Are he and ____ boyfriends now?

“These are my succulents.”

____ presents them to Randall with pride, knocking the other man out of his daydream thoughts. He tries to remember why they’re important, and what ____ had said about them at the park, but he just can’t remember.

He remembers the kiss, the feeling of ____ wrapping around him, but not any talk about the succulents.

Randall flushes, embarrassed.

“They’re...uh...They’re nice.”

There’s a pause, and Randall worries for a moment that he’s been caught not paying attention, but instead ____ beams, and Randall gives a sigh of relief.

“It’s, It’s pretty late, huh? Why don’t we go to bed?”

*

Randall tries to sleep. He really does. But ____’s bed is small, and although being able to feel the man’s arms around him, holding him to his chest is incredibly comforting, it’s also...too much. There’s a heartbeat thumping violently in the back of his head, urging Randall into a headache, and at this point he isn’t sure if it’s his own heart or that of the sleeping ____.

The sleeping male at his side seems at peace. Unaware of the sounds constantly drumming in Randall’s ears.

He wants it to stop.

*

 

____’s eyes flutter against his eyelids as the hands around his throat tighten, but he doesn’t wake, not yet completely oxygen deprived. Randall tightens his grip, enjoying the way his breathing sputters to a halt, and then panics into overdrive.

He’s rock hard in his pants, and he takes the time of ____’s confused and panicked awakening, to free one of his hands, slipping his cock through the zipper of his pants, and then aiming it towards the mans mouth.

He can’t breathe, and certainly can’t actively give head like this (not that he would given the situation),so instead, Randall uses his open mouth, gasping and struggling to breathe as a form of fleshlight.

It doesn’t take Randall long to burst, already at his limit merley from the choking itself. As he cums deep in ____ throat, he releases with his hands, allowing him to gasp all at once for air.

Cum fills ____’s lungs instead of air, and he coughs violently, spitting, and choking as he struggles to breathe. Everything burns, his lungs, his throat, his eyes.

By the time he’s calmed down and managed to breathe despite the sticky sperm in his windpipe, Randall is already gone, likely to return to his own apartment.

It’s with great shame and confusion that ____ finds the whole ordeal had caused him to cum as well, despite having been completely untouched besides his throat.

*

 

Randall wakes in his own apartment, with only the faintest memory of what had happened the night before. He remembers enough to feel happy, the somewhat unfamiliar feeling of butterflies in his chest, but he doesn’t remember the ending. Doesn’t remember straddling your chest while shoving his dick down your throat until you couldn’t breathe.

So, naturally, he doesn’t know why you start to ignore him.

At first, he chalks it up to coincidence. You’re surely just busy, right?

But then things become a little harder to ignore.

Like the time he knocked on the door to your apartment, able to hear the TV inside, and see the lights from within the poorly patched door, but you still didn’t answer. It’s like you were pretending to not be there. It’s like you were purposefully ignoring him.

And you are.

What happened sucks, and it’s typical, and you can’t forget it.

As much as you want to, you just keep thinking of that night, and how nice everything was leading up to the point you woke up literally choking on a dick.

For as much as you know about him, you like Randall. He’s nice, and he just…gives off a sort of reliable aura, that made you want to trust him.

It takes days for you to even leave your apartment, too terrified that you’ll run into him in the hallways. Eventually he knocks on your door, and while your stomach churns with anxiety, you do nothing. Not daring to open the door to actually face him.

 

*

 

The worst part is when you finally start feeling up to actually getting sexual again, with yourself of course, you can’t get off. There’s nothing you can do, or imagine, not enough porn in the world to get you to the point of actually cumming. You figure it out though, after days of countless, relief less suffering.

You just have to imagine that night. The fear, and pain of almost being choked into unconsciousness is exactly what you need to push yourself over that edge into orgasmic bliss.

It’s the hardest you’ve ever cum in your life, and as the exhaustion and waves of pleasure finally leave you, you stare blankly up at your bedroom ceiling, and think to yourself;

What the fuck is wrong with me?

 

*

 

Randall’s excited when Mya invites him over for movie night with her and Tom. It’s something to get his mind off ____, something that’s both plagued his thoughts, and made him incredibly depressed later. This will be good. This will be good for him. A good distraction.

That’s what he’s thinking anyway, until he actually gets to Tom’s apartment, and spots ____ sitting cross-legged on the floor, turned to look directly at him.

“Randall! Awesome,” Mya smiles at him, and instantly he becomes much more anxious. It has something to do with the warning look ____ is giving him.

“This is ____, our new neighbor! Remember, you wanted me to introduce you to?”

He goes to say that they’ve already met, but he see’s ____ narrow his eyes further and stops in his tracks.

“Yeah…Nice. Thanks! I’m Randall, uh…”

“My names ____.”

Mya watches them expectantly, and the hyper awareness of her eyes on him only makes Randall more nervous, eventually he goes, and joins ____ on the floor.

But…despite the awkward atmosphere, Randall can’t help the way his heart jumps when he sees ____ not flinch away, or completely ignore him as he’d been before. And now that he’s close, Randall’s able to tell that the other looks rougher than he had before.

It’s because of this that leads Randall to believe that maybe ____ really had just been busy or  upset. He gets like that sometimes, so upset and irritable that he doesn’t want to see or be seen by anyone.

Randall spends most of the movie watching ____, and ____ spends most of the movie worried about the fact he can feel Randall staring at him.

“Hey,” ____ interrupts the movie watching standing up and stretching, “I’m gunna go outside to smoke, is that okay?”

No one objects, except for Randall.

“I’ll come too!”

____ can’t help the cringe that leaves him. 

 

*

The minute they step out into the chilly air, ____ turns on Randall.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Randall resembles a kicked puppy, as he is completely unaware of his previous offending actions, and doesn’t understand why ____ is upset with him. 

“What? W-What do you mean?”

The obliviousness in Randall’s tone only seems to make ____ angrier, but before he can actually confront the other the tables quickly turn. 

Randall’s (?) expression turns harsh and cold, instead of confused and hurt, and advances on ____ ending the space between them. 

“What are you doing?” It’s ___’s turn to be afraid, and it’s easy to see that any confidence of a confrontation is gone now. He’s backed firmly against the wall of their apartment building. 

“Are you afraid?”

____ doesn’t answer, simply stares up at Randall (?)

“Cause you should be.” 

Then Randall grabs ____ by the neck, affectively pinning him even more to the brick wall, before smashing his lips on his. 

It’s a violent kiss. Their teeth clank together, and ____’s head hits the wall behind him causing him to momentarily see stars.

The kiss is different from the ones they’d had before, when they’d had sex, and everything seemed fine. Randall’s kisses were sloppy, and inexperienced, but not nearly this violent. 

____ tries to struggle, but his efforts are only meant with a tighter squeeze on his throat. Worst of all, he’s aroused, a familiar tingling between his legs.

When the kiss ends, and Randall finally releases his throat ___ is stuck gasping for air on his knees, all the while Randall is laughing. 

“I bet you enjoyed that.” 

He doesn’t get to respond. 

Randall’s already disappearing into the apartment complex before ___ can snap out of his daze to do anything. Deep down, he knows that Randall was right. 

 

*

 

“Is Randall not with you?” Mya’s question takes the still dazed, and lost in thought ____ by surprise, and it’s only then that he looks up to see it’s just the three of them in the apartment. Although Randall had come inside before him, he hadn’t returned to the others to continue watching the movie. 

“He said he wasn’t feeling well…”

*

It’s sudden, Randall finds himself back in his room alone. Not only that, but it feels like every nerve in his body is on fire, a tingly hot mess, leading to his cock, erect, and straining through his pants.

He strips down to almost nothing, his boxers, and tank top before actually tending to himself. Fisting eagerly at himself. Although unaware of  the kissing they had done outside the building, still, as before, he thinks of _____.

At first the thoughts are normal; the night they shared together in the park, how ____ moaned, how he smelled, just everything about him is so arousing to Randall. 

He smears his leaking precum over the tip of his cock, pumping his hips into his hand. He thinks about how warm it would be inside him, and how good it would feel to be beneath him. 

A shaky moan leaves Randall’s throat, just as his fantasies begin to take at turn. 

He wonders what it would be like to be inside ____, truly inside him.  It’s a bloody turn, a gruesome turn, but in Randall’s lusting mind, he sees nothing wrong with this turn of events.

Images of getting a blowjob from a decapitated ____, rutting into his open guts, or licking up the torrents of blood and tears streaming down ____’s face as he fucks his open gash wounds. 

He cums thick ropes, shooting further then he can anticipate, cum landing on the hardwood floor. 

His breathing is unsteady, still heavy panting, and he leans back on his bed, watching his chest rise and fall as his cock in hand goes soft. He’ll clean the cum in the morning, if he remembers, he’s too exhausted to do it now.

 

*

 

What happens then isn’t planned by Randall. The events set themselves into motion, and from the moment ____ knocked on the others apartment door, wanting answers once and for all, he sealed his own fate.

“Randall?”

The door practically throws itself open, immediately causing alarm bells and red flags to go off in the man's mind. 

“Are you there?”

There’s no response from inside the apartment. It’s dark. The only light coming from the tiny bits of light peeking through the drawn shut curtains. This should be enough of a reason for ____ to turn back, but he doesn’t. He’s already gathered his resolves. He wants to get to the bottom of Randall, and his odd bipolar behavior once and for all.

So despite his better judgment, the anxious screaming in the back of his head that something just isn’t right about this, ____ goes in. 

  
*   
  
It isn’t Randall who’s waiting in the darkness for ____, but Moths. Moths, who had up until this point, been watching Randall interact with ____, and watching as his other halfs interest grew into something more, and then to an unhealthy level. 

For Moths, it was amusing. 

 

It was why he tries to ruin it. Why he forced himself onto ____ the first night, and stole a kiss outside the apartment

  
____’s persistence to continue to know Randall, or to at the very least find the source of his odd behavior, is what peaks Moths own interest in the man. Others would be easily scare away, or turn tail at the first sign of the violence the combined forces of Randall and Moths are capable of. 

 

He waits in the darkness for ____ to come, like he knows he will, knife in hand, twirling between his fingers. A smirk comes to his face when he first hears ____ call out for Randall, and he remains silent, watching like the predator he is, until his prey is in grasp…

 

“Gotcha!” 

  
Moths uses his power, and the surprise to easily pin ____’s arms behind him with on hand, the other pressing the tip of the knife to the boys throat. He’s scared. 

 

_ Good _ ,

 

Fear, adrenaline, the cold metal of the knife digging into his throat, it’s all overwhelming, but superseded by the gross damp feeling sliding across the back of his neck. It takes a moment, but eventually it dawns on _____ what it is. Randall is... **licking** him. 

 

“What the fuck-What the fuck?” 

 

But he doesn’t dare actually struggle. The knife pressed to his throat is no joke, and the wrong move could leave him scared, if not seriously injured. With just a gulp he can feel the press of the closeness of the blade against his throat. 

  
  


*

Moths has ___ exactly where he wants him. Sharp nails digging into his clothed flesh with one hand, while the other continues to keep him in place via the threat of the knife. He ruts violently against ____ more like a beast in heat then a man. The back of ____’s clothes are smeared with precum. 

 

It’s not enough. He wants the same level of attention, and of closeness that ___ had shared with Randall. 

 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

  
Moths is pulled from his staring at the other man’s, slowly bruising neck, to the knife he holds there, and then finally to ____’s face. The outburst however, only angers Moths though. 

 

He stops rutting, stops moving completely. An uncomfortable silence over companies the two men, there heavy breathing now the only sound. 

 

It’s sudden, but Moths jerks, slams his knee into ___’s groin, knocking him windless to the floor.

 

He’s jealous. He’s tried to be nice, and to be soft, and ____ just won’t let him. 

 

With ____ immobilized  Moths takes the initiative, straddling him. With ____ still breathless, and no where near strong enough to struggle to freedom. 

 

Moths wants to be gentle, he  _ tries  _ to be gentle. He strips ____ while he struggles to regain air and composure, struggling from the conflicting pain and beginning pings of pleasure.

 

He tries to close his legs when he’s exposed to the air, and to Moths. To hide the shameful fact that he finds something about this whole exchange, arousing. He closes his eyes tight, refusing to face Moths, refusing to see the way that smirk takes his expression at proof, and the careful attention his fingers begin to give his open hole…

 

*

  
They’ve been going at it for three rounds now when Moths finally realizes something is wrong. The cries that had been piling out from ____’s mouth had finally stopped, there was no more tightening, and convulsing of his insides around his cock, and the other man had, ultimately, gone completely still. 

 

Somewhere down the line ____ has completely stopped breathing. 

  
___’s bruised neck is turned at an angle exposing the further abuse gone under it by Moths, some minor kissing, and hickeys, which slowly spiral into teeth marks, and bloody scraps, until small patches of flesh are missing completely from the exposed collar bone. Moths nails had made criss cross patterns across the man's skin, ribbons of crimson in their wake, worse on his chest, and on his hips, where the scratches change anywhere from surface deep to two or three inches. The final straw, the thing that likely ended his life for good, is the gash to both wrists, caused by Moths himself, and the knife he had originally used only as a threat. 

 

_ It was supposed to be a threat. _

 

Just fucking ____ wasn’t enough. Moths wanted more. More closeness, more intimacy, more everything. And so in his attempt to get so, he had slit the struggling mans wrist, prest the wound to his mouth, and drank. It wasn’t supposed to have been that deep of a cut, and the action itself, in Moths mind, was meant to be as soft, and gentle as a mother kissing away a child's papercut. 

 

When the blood began to slow from one wrist, Moths let go, the crimson staining his lips and mouth, and then, with no hesitation, or awareness for his actions, slashed upon the other, repeating the cycle. 

 

_ Moths had tried to be gentle. _

 

And when Moths finally realizes that there’s something no longer right about his lover, he stops, still hard inside the not yet cooling corpse. He presses his head against ____’s bloody chest, listening for the tell tale sound of a heart beat, or breathing. Anything that would signal life. 

 

There is nothing. 

 

The realization doesn’t disgust Moths as it should. His cock doesn’t turn flacid, and he doesn’t pull out of ____. 

 

He’s filled with some deep emotion he doesn’t like, and quickly turns it into anger. 

 

The discarded knife is picked up once more, and Moths begins to carve his way through ____’s ribcage as his hips begin to pick up their rhythmic slaps once more. 

 

*

If you truly love someone they never leave you. 

  
Randall knows this. 

 

Randall knows ____ will never leave him, both in body and in spirit. 

 

It was confusing at first, when he woke to the heartbreaking site of ____’s broken and bloody body, but Randall soon made sense of it. 

 

Oh yes.

 

It all made sense to him when he saw it, the bloody, still heart of ____, in a preserved jar. It was ____’s final gift to him after all. 

 

They were quite alike. Randall had known that since first meeting him, and had taken notice of their similar scars. While it was... **selfish…** .of _____ to leave Randall in such a way, he left a part of him behind. 

 

Several parts actually. 

 

*

It’s not healthy, and Randall wouldn’t dare to let Mya or Tom find out about it, but at first he tries to live with the corpse, as if nothing is wrong. 

 

He washes the blood, and tried dirt from ____’s body, dresses him in a pair of his old shorts and a long sleeve, and tucks him into bed. Like this, Randall can just pretend that ____ is sleeping, and when it comes time for bed, he can curl beside him, and still be held. 

 

This solution only works for so long. 

 

Unlike his heart, the rest of ____’s body is not well preserved, and slowly as it does, decay takes its hold. 

 

The first sign is when bloody foam begins to leak from ____’s mouth, and eyes. Randall can’t help himself, his curiosity at seeing the process up close. If it were anyone else he would perhaps be disgusted, but it’s ____ and therefore, he doesn’t mind it. 

 

The foam spreads across his fingers thickly, and disappears into Randell’s sleeves as soon as he wipes it away. Just touching the liquid isn’t enough to settle his curiosity, and so he moves to his next course of action. Kissing. 

 

He’s kissed ____ since he’s died. Pecks to the lips, and an occasional, saucy slip of his tongue into the dead mans mouth when he’s feeling full of himself, but it’s different now. ____’s lips are waxy and bloated, and the provocation of his tongue causes the bloody foam to fizz over into his own mouth like an overflowing soda. 

 

Randall does his best to swallow it all down, not wanting any part of ____’s body to go to waste. In the end, he is only partly successful, blood he was unable to swallow drips down both his, and the corpses chin, mingling somewhere in the middle, and staining their matching long sleeve shirts. 

 

That night Randall falls asleep next to the cold ____, an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. 

 

The next morning he repeats his previous cycle. He watches as ____ expels liquid waste, experimentally touching, and tasting it, all the while nervously palming his erect cock. It’s when Randall pulls away, a trail of bloody saliva connecting him to the cold lips of his deceased lover that he gets an idea. 

 

Just because ____’s dead doesn’t mean he still can’t have sex with him. 

  
  


*

 

Still Randall is not left in complete peace. The cold sweet smell of decay is beginning to take up every crevice of Randall’s apartment, and leaving Randall himself smelling of ____ even when he leaves. 

 

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but Mya has already begun to complain about the smell, chalking it up to a dead rat in the vents. 

 

And she had a point. 

He loved ____, but the smell was beginning to get bad,even for him.

 

Not to mention, people knew ____ had disappeared at this point, and although Randall doesn’t think Mya suspects him, she is worried. Tom is too. 

 

He’s with Mya, watching, as the police finally break into ____’s apartment, in hopes to find any sort of clue in the mans disappearance, unaware that he is long since dead, and the person who caused it is feet away, sleeping with the corpse every night.

 

*

For now, while Randall tries to think of what to do with him, ____’s body is moved to the bathtub. As Randall’s moving him to the bathroom, his head rolls from his shoulders, snapping completely off the rotting pivot, and landing in the floor. 

 

“I want to keep you,” Randall speaks to the severed head, as he fishes it out from under his bed. “I really do, but you’re not making this easy.”

 

The head does not respond, now empty sockets staring hollowly back at Randall, as the purple haired male sighs, and examines the damage. Despite the liquid from his eye sockets having leaked onto the floor with his fall, the head itself hadn’t made too much of a mess.

 

However....on Randall’s bed, where the corpse had been housed, there’s a horribly black stain taininting the sheet, in the outline of the bloated ____. 

 

There’s no doubt about it, he has to do something about the corpse. 

  
*

Randall apologizes the whole time, even knowing that ____ can’t feel it as his bodies severed limbs are shoved within the plastic garbage bag. He’s nervous as he stuffs the pieces, one by one, until he’s got a total of five bags, all containing various parts of ____, all smelling of rotted putrid meat. 

 

He kisses the jar containing ____’s preserved heart for luck, and leaves his apartment, pulling his parade of garbage bags behind him. 

 

There are more suspicious things on these streets then him at 3am, and as such, no one questions him. No one stops him. 

 

Randall is able to drag all the pieces of ____’s body to the park, the only park in their area, the same park where ____ had kissed Randall after getting gas stations burritos.

 

It’s romantic this way. 

 

At least, Randall thinks it’s romantic.

  
He would end where they began. 

 

*

 

The recovery of the body is on the news the very next day, having been found by a group of teenagers on their way to school. It’s not immediately identified as ____, although the police say they suspect, and the corpse is reported as being missing several things. 

 

It’s missing its heart, several fingers, and a tongue. 

 

Randall is comforted by knowing that although he’s lost the rest of the body, ____ isn’t really gone, not only is his spirit still with Randall, but so is his heart. 

 

Moths is comforted by knowing although the rest of the body is now gone, the parts he ate will be within them forever.


End file.
